


Club

by annplatan



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: M/M, They're in a club, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annplatan/pseuds/annplatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagisa is waiting for someone and he sees this gorgeous blond so yeah</p>
            </blockquote>





	Club

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small, quick drabble I did in procrastinating for writing Carnage, Nagisa may be ooc but whatever he's a bored little cunt what can i do  
> Hope you enjoy!

It's hot in the club and the bundle of youth before him, grinding and dancing to no particular rhythm, is enough to extract an irritated sigh from his lips. Asano doesn't know what drink he ordered, but it tastes pungent, strong. He takes a few consecutive gulps and feels a loud buzz and everything goes quiet. He can look at the noiseless crowd and notice, absorb the sight. Most of them students, with nothing better to do; they rejoice in the warm air and tacky citric taste of the room. He sees them drink, without hesitance, alcohol trickles from their mouths to stain shirts that will reek of sweat and accumulation when they'll wake. Their hands shake uncertainty when handling beer, vodka, shot glasses. The lighting changes every ten minutes or so, it now being a deep green; the scene is that of a quasi-jungle, animals dancing, mating in celebration of freedom, to worship themselves, to serve their wildness. The effects of the chugs of drink taken are starting to wear off and Asano feels the buzz quieting, the hum of the socialization before him taking over. As the music and chatter threaten to reach the actual volume, something hinders the process. The Interruption is welcome, but sudden. The voice is quiet and it blends into the atmosphere, as if to go unnoticed, invisible.

“Do you have a light?”

The blue-haired boy doesn’t even look at him, their backs pressed to the same wall and Asano wonders how he didn’t notice this small, thin and under-age-looking teen slid beside him. He has a skinny, clean white cigarette pressed in between his lips, balmed greedy green by the lights, painted on a silk white visage.

“How old are you?”  
“Old enough.”

He glances up expectantly and Asano reaches in his suit pocket to get out the lighter he carries around and hands it to the teen.  
“I don’t believe you.”

The teen lights the cigar and inhales the smoke, he exhales it through his nostrils like an ancient sentient dragon, the haze of darkness in the room paints his long hair grey; not blue. He looks at Asano questionably and mutters in a low voice: 

“You don’t need to.”  
Despite this, he smiles slightly and rummages in his pocket, he takes out a plastic card and the lights flicker on his ID. His name is Nagisa, twenty-two years old. He gives Asano’s lighter back and he leans back against the wall, he uses the smoke to meditate on a high.  
He doesn’t close his eyes, as one might choose to in a relaxed state, but keeps them open as if he were on guard, certainly more attentive and careful than anyone else in the enclosure.

They stand next to each other in silence, smoke diffusing itself through the air, it bounces off air particles to make way through the entire club along with the smell of burning, coming from the bright lights of excessive use.


End file.
